A Summer Celebration
by katlizhan
Summary: Ahead of the annual Hoshidan summer festival, King Ryoma shares a rare moment alone with his wife, as they await the arrival of the Nohrian and Vallite royals. A three part story. Other pairings are present. Set after the events of Revelation.


**Part One**

**_All About Mozu_**

The swoosh of curtains being drawn pulled Ryoma from his slumber. Blinding rays of light pierced through the chamber windows, reflecting in rainbow diamonds from the glass chandelier above. He squinted and sat up, raising a bare arm to shield his eyes as they adjusted to the sudden light. Hisao- the king's newly appointed butler and culprit behind his temporary blindness- stood awkwardly at the foot of the lavish bed. In his hands he held a metal tray. "Your breakfast, mi-milord," he sputtered, bowing his head in courtesy.

"Leave it over there, if you will." Ryoma indicated the round wooden table near the window, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his other hand. With clumsy fingers he tackled the tangles of his unkempt mane, though quickly accepted defeat. Sighing, he threw it over a broad shoulder. It was one battle he would never win.

Hisao returned, bony fingers fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt sleeves. _Gods, am I so intimidating?_ Ryoma wondered. "Good weather today, milord. Bit cool for summer, mind," the butler said. Hisao was a wiry young man, with a mop of ebony hair and narrow eyes that seemed, by some unknown force, unable to meet his king's. His features resembled those of a ferret; a long pointed nose and thin lips set upon a narrow face.

"Indeed. If the Gods are good, it'll stay that way for the festival. Let us hope it does not get too hot- we don't want our guests roasting now, do we? Save that for the poultry." Ryoma chuckled. "Is my yukata ready?" he asked as he swung his legs from the bed and rose to his feet, the sea of soft sheets trickling from his body. The cool air danced along his exposed torso.

"Yes, milord. Lady Oboro finished it just yesterday. She said she wishes to hand it to you in person."

Ryoma gave a firm nod. "Very well. You may take your leave now, Hisao." He offered a gentle smile, hoping the boy would warm to him soon. "Ah- Hisao!" he called before the boy left. "Where is my queen?" The lack of her warmth when he woke had not gone unnoticed.

"I don't know, milord. The wash room, perhaps?" he suggested.

_Of course_, he mused. "Yes, you may be right. Thank you for my breakfast." The boy bowed low and closed the heavy bedchamber doors with a thud, leaving the Hoshidan king alone to his thoughts. It was to be a long day ahead, awaiting the arrival of the Nohrian and Vallite royals for the annual summer celebrations, held on the eve of the summer equinox. Since the curse over Valla had been lifted after the defeat of the Fell Dragon Anankos, Corrin and her subjects could now travel freely between the two realms. She visited as often as her duties permitted, which in truth was not often- not since she had been crowned Queen of the once Invisible Kingdom. Her retainers- along with Princess Azura and the now Prince Jakob- had moved with her, so Ryoma was sure she was in good hands. He was thankful for her visits; leading a kingdom was as stressful as he had imagined it to be- though not so much as leading an army amidst a brutal war, he supposed. Besides, it had its benefits- he could finally be the leader that would make his father proud. Shape the peace he had previously only envisioned in his dreams- with the help of his dear wife. Their marriage had also born a new addition to their sizeable family; his son and heir, Shiro. A door creaked open behind him, pulling him from the depths of his mind.

"Mornin', my king," a small voice sounded. His heart skipped in recognition, a fond smile playing at his lips.

"My queen." He turned to face her, lips parting at the sight of her. A silken nightdress draped over her petite figure, the lilac folds clinging to her small curves. She was mesmerising. "Or should I say, my Goddess. It would truly be an insult to call you any less." He smirked, eyes drinking in her beauty.

Mozu giggled. "That's blasphemy." A blush coloured her cheeks- a drop of red in a pool of cream. "Lookin' mighty fine yourself, though. My Samurai Warrior," she teased. "Still have to pinch myself to check I'm not dreamin'." She sauntered over to him and placed a dainty hand on his chest, fingers curling through the nest of short dark hairs.

Ryoma hooked a ribbon of her hair onto a finger, twisting it into ringlets. After a year of marriage, she was still the most beautiful woman he had lain eyes on. Her features were unique; large doe-like eyes and plump cheeks, with a small nose peppered with honeyed freckles. The warmth in her smile burned stronger than the sun. He praised the Gods every day for blessing him with her companionship. They had wed as soon as the dust had settled after the war; after they buried their dead, including his dear friend Scarlet. Grief panged in his chest at the memory. On their wedding day, Mozu had worn his mother's wedding gown to honour the late Queen Mikoto. Though not his mother by blood, she had raised him and his siblings as best she could. Ryoma had also salvaged the tiara his birth mother, Ikona, had worn on her wedding day, and offered it as a gift to his new wife. Despite being common by birth, the Queen of Hoshido had quickly won over the hearts of the people and lords alike. Their fondness for her only grew after the birth of their son.

"You are a gift to this world, my love," he murmured, tracing her constellation of freckles with the tip of his finger.

Mozu laughed softly, the sound delicate as a feather drifting in a spring breeze. "You sure know how to please a girl." She went onto tip-toes and pulled him in for a brief touch of their lips. It left more to be desired.

"I can show you more ways, if you'd like," he replied, voice husky. The warmth from their proximity spread down and pooled in his groin. In a wave of primal desire he seized her mouth in his, devouring the smoothness of her lips with hot, lustful kisses. Yet still it was not enough. With a hum her hands came round to his back, scratching at the skin to find grip. She settled for fistfuls of his thick hair.

"Gosh, you're needy this mornin'." Mozu gasped as he nipped at her earlobe. He continued in a steady trail along her jaw, breathing in the smell of her. Rose petals and honeydew, with a hint of what was distinctly Mozu.

"You make me so," he returned through bites, acutely aware of the hands wandering lower down his back. His body ached for her, willing him to take her, but he would savour these moments for as long as possible. It was not often he was allowed a day away from his royal duties- and in this moment, his duty was to his wife. To worship her, and pleasure her as she deserved. Every inch, every freckle. Festival preparations be damned.

A growl escaped his throat as he bundled her into his arms, carrying her over to their ornate bed and falling in a heap atop their cream sheets. Mozu panted lightly beneath him, anticipation visible in dilated eyes, her head crested with a chestnut halo. _A Goddess, indeed,_ he mused. And she belonged to him. Ryoma tugged the fabric of her nightdress above her waist, firm fingers caressing the supple skin of her thighs. "You should wear this more often..." he breathed through desperate kisses. Their hot breath mingled in the morning air.

"Oh, you like it? Oboro... made it for me," she panted, voice thick with desire. Delicate fingers rubbed at his length through the fabric of his pants. His hips ground against them, aching for the itch to be sated. "Said it'd make me look more a lady."

His right hand wandered up her body until it found and claimed a breast, fondling a hardened nipple between thumb and forefinger. The other snaked up her thigh to the wetness between her legs. He slid a digit through the slick folds, slow and precise. Then two. Mozu squirmed beneath him, bucking against his fingers. The scent of her arousal lay thick in the air, clouding his mind like a drug. He observed her a moment as he worked her, searing her current state into his memory. The flushed cheeks, the hair plastered to the dampness of her face and neck. In a haze he watched as she arched her back, angling into his fingers as she balled the bedsheets into her fists. "I'll have her make another," he murmured to himself. His words were drowned out by the cries of his wife. Gods, they were enough to make him unfold right then.

"Ryoma..." Mozu reached for the ties on his breeches. After a clumsy effort, she finally loosened them and slid the garment down toned legs. He kicked them to the floor. Relief washed over him at the release from his confinement, and his eyes fluttered shut as he stroked himself, using her wetness on his fingers as lubricant. While he was distracted, Mozu swung her legs around his waist and flipped him onto his back with skilled ease. The sudden change of position dazed him briefly, and by the look on her face he could only guess that his bemusement pleased her. He wanted to kiss the smug smile from her lips. Slowly, Mozu positioned herself at his tip and lowered herself onto him, pausing every so often to adjust to his girth before she began to roll her hips, placing his hands on her small waist for balance. Ryoma tightened his grip and pulled himself up to face her, muscles rippling from the effort. Once again their mouths clashed- hungrily at first, moaning and grunting as their mouths fought for dominance over the other, until they settled into a slow, sloppy kiss. They broke apart for breath, panting, and pressed their damp foreheads together with eyes closed, hips thrusting in a synchronous rhythm. Their grunts and moans rose into a shared, blissful melody, the world around them fading until all they knew was each other. The feel of skin and silk, of tongues and the rhythm of hips. Ryoma could feel his orgasm building in the pit of his stomach, muscles contracting and goading him on with renewed vigour. His bucking turned wild, release but a few thrusts away. Ryoma began to remove Mozu's gown, craving the touch of her skin, when a man cleared his throat. With a startled jump, the garment slipped from his hands and the rush was cut short, lulling into dormancy.

It was Saizo. "Pardon the intrusion, my lord," he said. Ryoma groaned.

"Do you not know how to knock, man? I should have you thrown in the dungeons for intruding on the queen's private chambers," he snapped. Regret churned in his gut in an instant. "Forgive me, Saizo. That was unkind." With a sigh he carefully pushed Mozu from his lap, wrapping her in a sheet. His wife was for his eyes only. "What is it?" His voice was still raspy.

"No need for apology, my lord," Saizo said, features showing no sign of emotion aside from the furrow that permanently creased his brow. He paid no mind to the queen. "I have received word from our Nohrian and Vallite allies. They are expected to arrive just after noon."

"Excellent. Are their rooms prepared?"

"Indeed, my lord. The Nohrian siblings' yukatas have been placed on their beds, courtesy of Lady Oboro." Prince Takumi's wife was quite the seamstress, and had insisted on personally designing and crafting each of the yukatas to be worn for the festival. "Lady Corrin is to bring her own, I believe. She said her old one would fit no longer."

Ryoma mulled over his words. "I wonder why," he thought aloud. Surely she had not grown that much since the year last. "No matter. Thank you, Saizo... Though next time, do knock."

"Understood. Good day, Lord Ryoma. Lady Mozu." Saizo bowed low and left swiftly. A small body pressed against Ryoma's back, arms enclosing around his chest.

"I believe we were in the middle of something," Ryoma drawled, tilting his head to give better access to the tongue sucking at his neck.

"Really? I hadn't noticed..." Mozu purred and rotated him to face her, a playful glint in her pools of hazel- a verdant forest in an autumn rain. Like some sultry seductress she slithered the gown up and over her head, exposing her torso to his ogling gaze and capturing him under her spell. A spell he would be glad to never be free of. He cupped a small breast in a hand, squeezing and tugging at the flesh. After their many exploits, she still managed to make the breath catch in his throat.Without further ado, Ryoma pushed his wife to the bed and lowered himself onto her, his arousal stirring from its brief repose. It was not long until he cried out her name as the wave of ecstasy crashed over him, sapping the energy from his body. And in that moment, all he knew was Mozu.

* * *

**_A/N~ This is a story I wrote for a friend but I decided to rework it and post it here. I like to think Saizo was standing there the entire time lmao. Since Mozu doesn't have an official age, for the purpose of this fic she is 19ish. I know Fates is weird and lets literal kids marry 30 year olds but we don't do that round these parts, folks!_**

**Stay tuned for part two, and thank you as ever for reading!**


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